


Don't Turn Away (Let Me Stay)

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [92]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (TECHNICALLY NOT REALLY), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Character Death, M/M, why am I overusing the word technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is given a chance.</p><p>(so that he can score himself a hot teacher without being illegal)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Turn Away (Let Me Stay)

**Author's Note:**

> Still working very hard on the 50 Shades of Grey transliteration. I'm at 32k words and I was planning on 40-50k range but we shall see.
> 
> Title from Evanescence's Whisper, I think.

_Don’t lost your footing,_ Harry reminds himself as he walks through the school corridors. _Just because you’re insomniac and had only five hours of sleep in last two weeks doesn’t mean that you’re going to–_

Harry makes it to the toilets and slams the door shut, or a poor try of it, and leans against the wall. The bell rang literally thirty seconds ago and his breathing is rapid like he just ran a marathon.

“I…” He manages to croak before he crumbles to the floor.

-

Harry tries to wake up, and he bloody can’t. Someone’s carrying him somewhere, and he’s not feeling that, nope.

He’s _seeing_ what’s happening.

 _Oh my God, out of body experience_ , Harry remarks as the fit bloke with luscious curls carries him to the college infirmary. _I can feel everything yet I’m so detached._

The nurse says something and the fit bloke replies with something Harry can’t make out. Great, this is an ESP and he can’t even hear properly.

“What do you mean he has to be checked into the hospital?” Oh, there it is. Damn, his voice is a turn-on. “By the looks of it, he only needs some rest.”

“The heartbeat is really weak,” the nurse counters.

 

The next thing Harry sees, for whatever the reason, is his physical body covered by mountainous heaps of hospital bed sheets. Someone changed him into one of those godforsaken garbs and he wants to strangle himself with the said clothing.

“Mr. Malik?” One of the nurses call out to the fit bloke who probably drove Harry there. “What’s your relation to Mr. Styles?”

“I’m his teacher.”

Now Harry remembers. In his Ecology lecture, the prof has an assistant by the name of Zayn Malik. He’s funnier than Mr. Evans by a lot of degrees, and, of course, attractive. If Harry figures out the way to get back into his body, he’ll thank the lad personally in a non-sexual way.

(Yeah right.)

 

Hours pass by, or maybe it was minutes, it was hard to tell without a body, and Harry is growing flustered with his body.

Or rather, _lack_ of it.

Mr. Malik left the room to return for his classes and the doctor, Mr. Payne, is talking on the phone with someone. Harry knows better than to hope that his family will show up.

-

“Ah, you finally crossed,” the voice wakes Harry up, which shouldn’t be bloody possible with the whole out of body experience and all. “Don’t be rude and say something!”

“Bugger off,” Harry groans, then notices he’s in a place… if anything.

He’s floating and the _floor_ is just a bunch of clouds and wow, this is even weirder than his spirit departing his body.

Wait, did this bloke just say he crossed?

The blond has the stereotypical white wings and a halo, his celestial blue eyes stoic.

“Are you the angel who will cross me over?”

“Depends on what you want,” the blond shrugs, causing a handful of white feathers to fall from his wings. “See, from lack of sleep, your body decided to take a long holiday.”

“You mean I’m in a coma,” Harry grins wryly. “Damn, my life sucks.”

“I told you that you have a choice,” the angel growls at him. “Option one is to have me send your spirit back inside your body so you can be arsed to take those sleeping pills you were prescribed.”

“Option two?” Harry doesn’t bother with hiding his hope.

“I put you in a different body so that the person who’s dying gets another shot at life,” the blond angel shrugs nonchalantly. “The catch is that his own spirit will try to fight you. Your own, however, will try to become the person whose body you just entered. Literally, the two sides of the person will fight and created a demented… reality.”

“Split personality or schizophrenia?”

“Possibly both,” the angel smiles. “Now, which do you choose?”

-

Zayn can’t stop thinking about the boy he had to carry to the hospital. He recognised him from his Year Two Econ class and a lot of parts of him wishes to see those emerald green eyes again.

“Mr. Malik?” His instructor points at his vibrating phone.

 _“Is this Mr. Malik?”_ The person on the phone asks. He confirms. _“I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Styles has passed away from the combination of lack of sleep and malnutrition. Would you like for me to inform his family?”_

Zayn knows better than to consent that. Everyone at Leeds University knows his family sort of disowned the curly haired angel.

-

Louis is confused when he wakes up. The last thing he remembers is shooting the mixture of heroin and speed up his vein and he knows that he overdosed.

He’s at the despicable hospital and his oldest sister, Lottie, is watching him with sympathetic gaze.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Louis growls at the sister, just to realise there’s a breathing tube down his throat. “Fuck.”

“I can still hear you, you moron,” Lottie sighs and pulls the tube out. “Just because mum died from that auto wreck doesn’t mean–”

“Don’t you fucking dare mention her!” Louis snaps, then feels dizzy. “Damn, it was close this time, wasn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t respond to shocks,” the tears are apparent in Lottie’s words. “Please don’t leave us, you promised.”

“The only thing I’m good at,” Louis feels a sadistic grin creeping up on his face, “is getting fucked for money.”

It’s rather sad, how Louis has a degree in Acting and Sociology but he can’t find something other than thirty-second long adverts or extras in B-rated movies that he’s not even credited for.

Instead of persevering, he went to the dingiest strip club and became their dancer/prostitute. He made more money that way anyways.

Couple of porn industry tried to recruit him, something about ‘that arse that’s naturally round and bouncy without surgeries we have our actors have’ and ‘nice jawline and cheekbones our customers will like’. Louis knows better than to sell his body for sex tapes.

So here he is, a wandering soul in Bradford.

-

 _“God, you’re so annoying,”_ _the room is unfamiliar to Louis, and so is the speaker. “Do you really think mum will tolerate you after she finds out?”_

_“Just because I want to be with Nick doesn’t make me a faggot!” The person yells at the other person. “I don’t give a fuck what you say about me.”_

Slap _._

_“Don’t talk to me like that, you worthless fag,” the girl, who appears to be the older sister, sneers. “You take it up your arse, how disgusting is that?”_

_“Fag is meant to be blown, just remember that.”_

-

Louis wakes up with a start, then his phone rings.

His manager tells him that he has to start early with his shows, since there’s one private show at 4.45. He just groans and gets dressed in a hoodie and a pair of joggers.

 

His workplace is the same, smelling like cheap perfumes and sex, with a hint of stale beer. He skips straight to his dress room and undresses himself completely, just to put on a jockstrap. His arse is fully on display in this costume.

-

Zayn knows listening to his mates (aka the devils) isn’t the best of ideas but it was his birthday, so.

Being blindfolded, however, wasn’t part of the plan. He can’t see a thing and his wrists are tied behind his back.

He hears a shaky breath and guesses his entertainer is here.

“Go ahead,” Zayn sighs, deciding nothing can be worse than having feelings for a dead student. “You’re paid by my friends so get to it.”

The person has a very curvy arse and Zayn would’ve been so sure it was a girl had the dancer not turned around and pressed his semi against Zayn’s own growing problem. He raises a hand to trace his dancer’s features.

Zayn can feel the three days’ worth of stubble on the other lad’s face and the jawline is strong, almost square. The breaths fan against his neck as the dancer continues with his routine, pressing his bum against Zayn’s dick again; he hasn’t any complaints about that.

“We can have so much fun,” Zayn purrs at the stranger, who just gulps like he isn’t used to dirty talk. “C’mon.”

“Can’t,” the voice is shriller than Zayn expected, a range between alto and tenor.

“I’ll buy you next time.”

-

 _Fuck, why did I feel the butterflies when he touched my face?_ Louis presses his back against the wall, getting ready for his show at 5.45. _I never got that from other private dances._

He redresses himself in sparking blue/silver thongs for the early evening show and his usual routine partner, AJ, throws him a smile that manages to relax him.

It’s not exactly there, but the work’s protocol prohibits the workers from sleeping with one another but Louis has slept with AJ a couple times, after their shift. What can he say, strippers do get horny after their performances.

 _I don’t know what was up with that client,_ Louis reminds himself, walking onto the stage.

-

Couple days after his eventful birthday party, Zayn is sat on the stool in front of a pretty barmaid. She’s been giving him googly eyes for last half-hour and it’s almost working.

Almost, because there’s a lad with pretty blue eyes and nice arse. Zayn can’t imagine how such creature is alone at the bar and he walks towards him.

“Hey,” Zayn offers a genuine smile. “What are you doing here alone?”

The bloke’s eyes widen, as if from recognition, and he opens his mouth then closes it.

“You got a name, love?” Zayn persists, frowning now.

“Um,” the voice is low and drawn-out, telling Zayn it’s not how he usually sounds like. “Just call me Lou…”

“Lou,” Zayn tests out the name, smiling for a reason unbeknownst to him. “That’s a nickname, I suppose?”

“Um, yeah.”

Zayn buys a couple of shots and the barmaid is now throwing daggers at both of them. He just grabs Lou by his waist and drags him to the dance floor.

“Um, I don’t…” Lou protests, his eyes widening with fear. “I can’t.”

“You can’t be worse than me, c’mon!” Zayn laughs and puts his hands atop Lou’s small shoulders. They get into the rhythm, Zayn’s front grinding into Lou’s behind. Lou is making noises that are between whimpers and moans, a delectable sound Zayn loves a lot.

“We can take this somewhere if you’d like?” Zayn arches a brow.

“Sure…”

-

Louis didn’t expect to run into Mr. Delish so soon again, never mind see him outside his work. He seems like a type to spend all night studying and with his luck, the other bloke will find out he’s a bloody stripper.

“Do you come ‘ere often?” He asks, the brow seemingly arched permanently. “I’m often dragged by my friends so yeah.”

“Couples times a day, I suppose,” _I work there_. “But dancing isn’t a way to pick me up.”

“Then what is?” There’s a sober amusement dancing in those deep amber eyes. “Do enlighten me.”

“I… I gotta go,” Louis turns around and hails a cab home.

-

 _Something about that lad isn’t… estranged._ Zayn notes inside his head.

He’s very surprised that the bronze-haired bloke ditched him halfway to his house for what? Cuddling? Fucking? Whatever the case was, he’s gone and there’s a pang in his chest.

 _I’m sorry for not making it in time, Harry_ , Zayn rests his hand against the wall, bracing himself. _I failed you_.

Harry might not remember him, but for a brief time, they went to secondary school together, Harry as a Year 8 student, Zayn himself as an upper sixth form. He knew the rumours about a certain Cheshire native, how he was abandoned by his family for being gay and _other_ stuff.

He wanted to protect Harry since then.

As an assistant teacher in Harry’s college, he kept a close eye on Harry and he did notice how the younger lad was losing weight, or how the dark bags formed under his eyes.

He enters his bedroom without much noise, careful not to wake his roommate, Liam, up. He only hears a disgruntled noise when he shucks off all his clothes in favour of his boxers, then plops into his own bed across from Liam’s.

_“I know you tried,” Harry’s voice is soft like a virgin snow. “And I know you wish this were real, not a sodden dream.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Zayn can’t look into Harry’s leaf-green eyes. “I thought I knew you so well.”_

_“You tried to save me, when no one else did,” a frail, too-pale hand touches Zayn’s chin, lifting his gaze. “What if I told you I’ve been given a second chance?”_

_“I don’t believe in reincarnation, babe,” Zayn smiles despite the rigidness in his body. “That’s bullshit.”_

_“You’ve already met me,” Harry’s thumb brushes over his lips. “You have to let your heart guide you.”_

_-_

Harry is 100% sure that in the book of ‘you’re given a second chance at life’ that telling your crush about your current status is forbidden.

Right now, he’s given Louis’ spirit to do all the moving and thinking so that he can have thoughts to himself. Louis is freaking out on how he acted around Zayn and how _right_ it felt. Ugh, save the dramatics for later!

“You’re overreacting,” Jake, Louis’ friend since kindergarten and roommate, tells him for the thousandth time. “I mean, with your job as a dancer and all that, it’s alright to feel awkward.”

“I didn’t feel _awkward_ , I felt like I knew that guy from elsewhere!” Louis screeches at his friend, his eyes ringed with red from laughing and crying. “It’s like… from a different lifetime.”

 _Fix this!_ Louis’ spirit yells at Harry.

 _Nah, this is too entertaining for my afterlife,_ Harry replies, biting into his figurative apple. _Do try to change my mind, I might just take over your precious little body_.

Louis groans and drops the syringe, plopping himself into his king-sized bed.

-

_“Nick, I-I think I love you,” Louis is having one of those weird dreams again. He has been for last two weeks. “And I’m ready to come out to my family.”_

_“Baby, they’re horribly homophobic, especially your sister,” the Nick bloke strokes a strand of the person’s curl back. “My parents knew I was gay for as long as I can remember, quite literally, but you?”_

_“I want us to be happy,” the young lad nudges their noses together._

_“I love you too, my little star.”_

-

“You’re unbelievable,” Zayn sighs as Liam drags him to the club he got rejected at. “You don’t even go there!”

“Dani wants me to go socialise so this is sort of last resort,” Liam looks like he wants to throw Zayn over his shoulders and man-handle him. “It’s either here or–”

“Strip club it is,” Zayn replies grudgingly.

 

The first two hours go by swimmingly, a couple birds trying to score kisses but he just dodged them. He just wasn’t concerned with kissing randoms when his thought were occupied with a certain petit lad.

“Tonight, we have a performance by Tom Lush!” The announcer guy informs them. “He’s our lead star and here he is now!”

Zayn’s jaw drops to the floor when his eyes locate Lou, his body barely covered by what he can see as his ‘uniform’. The only real clothes he has on are his jockstraps, secured by black garter belts.

Garter belts. He hasn’t seen those on any girls he’s been with but he does with a freaking male stripper.

-

Louis finds the client from couple weeks ago straight away. It was hard not to, with the bloke staring at him with agape mouth. He winks at him, shimmying his arse in a seductive way.

He starts his routine, folding a leg over the vertical pole and swinging around, followed by pressing his back against it. He hates how the coldness of the metal bites into his skin, but he got used to being naked anyways. Tonight, he’s wearing heels for someone’s request (he doesn’t take requests often, but those are extra 20 each) so it’s harder to remain balanced. He walks down the stage and hops into the throng, making a bee-line for the hot customer he’s had. He throws a salacious smile and sits on his lap, noticing the semi.

“Gonna fuck me hard, _daddy?_ ” Louis whispers into the younger looking lad’s ear, giving his crotch a squeeze. “Should’ve when you had the chance.”

“Should buy you again, hm?” Louis gasps when he’s groped through the thin fabric of the damned costume. “My car is a black Accent, if you want me to take you home.”

­­-

Zayn didn’t expect Lou to show up but after the show (and couple drinks), there’s a looming shadow over his car.

“Didn’t know you’d show up,” Zayn smirks as Lou presses his back into the hood in a suggestive way. “Didn’t know you slept with clients either.”

“You’re a smart one, _Mr. Malik_ ,” Lou looks as confused as he is. “I don’t know why I just said that…”

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Zayn’s sure that Louis is too old to be finishing up college at the one he’s assistant at. “‘Cause I don’t know you at all.”

“Um,” Lou has that look, the one he gave right before he fled and rejected him a couple weeks ago. “Let’s just go to yours and forget that I know your last name.”

 

Twenty minutes of driving later, there’s more _driving_. Currently under Lou’s delectable body weight, Zayn’s waist is squeezed by his strong thighs, both of their breathing ragged. Lou has his hands planted on his chest as he fucks up into the tightness, garnering soft moans from the smaller lad. It should be illegal to have sex with someone _this_ tight but this is still good.

“God!” Lou screams, his walls clenching before he spurts over his chest. He just collapses forward, limp in Zayn’s embrace. He massages the dancer’s stomach, scooping up the come and tasting it. He ruts up couple more times before spilling into the condom.

“You should call me if you want to do that again,” Lou winks at him after they both come down from their highs.

“But I don’t have your number.”

“Check your jeans, _Mr. Malik_.”

-

Two weeks pass by and Zayn has learnt that Lou’s real name is Louis Tomlinson, a stripper who sometimes double as a prostitute. He didn’t know Louis did drugs until he found a stash of weed.

(They might have had sex after getting high.)

“I have something crazy to tell you,” Louis mumbles, cuddled into Zayn’s chest.

“I love crazy!” Zayn replies with mock excitement.

“Calm your balls, Hans, you aren’t a villain,” Louis rolls his eyes. “What if I told you… I’m not exactly Louis?”

-

 _YOU’RE AN IDIOT, STYLES!_ Louis’ spirit is _very_ mad at Harry for the slip.

It’s true, how both Harry and Louis have fallen for Zayn but Zayn was Harry’s eye candy first!

“You’re crazy,” Zayn looks like he’s trying to convince himself. “How can you not be Louis? Are you some kind of paedophile?”

“I mean, I’m Louis, technically–” _lemme do the talking!_ “–but I’m also Harry… one of your student for your English Literature Year Three.”

“But you died,” Zayn deadpans. “You suffered from a concussion and from malnutrition and lack of sleep, your body just shut down and gave up.”

“This blond angel bloke told me I could live back in my own body or enter this sadly short but hella booty-full body and save him,” Harry sighs, Louis’ spirit long gone and refusing to talk to him. “Louis as a person fell for you too, but so did I.”

“This isn’t some Sci-Fi shite,” Zayn snarls, the gentle lover Harry has grown to love not present. “Prove you’re Harry then.”

“I know that in your lectures, when you’re helping, anyways, you have a tendency to bite your lip whenever we ask you a question you don’t know the answer to,” Harry sighs, looking at his nails. “Also, I have four nipples.”

“You used to,” Zayn counters. “Not that I heard.”

“But you know it’s me, Zayn,” Harry cups Zayn’s jaw and makes the older lad look into his eyes. “Look at me!”

Amber eyes meet blue.

-

For a split second when Louis yells at Zayn and forces him to look at him, the eyes are vivid forest green, not the shade of blue-green Louis’ eyes turn under certain lighting. As an assistant teacher, he’s heard loads of stuff about how rich shade of green Harry’s eyes are, and he’s seen them.

“Harry…”

“I love you, and I hope you feel the same.”

Instead of replying verbally, Zayn laughs and pulls Harry-or-Louis-depending-on-how-you-look-at-it and kisses his softly on the lips.


End file.
